A Tactician's Handbook
by marymin
Summary: Short stories from various Fire Emblem games. Currently, Rekka No Ken, Awakening, and Sacred Stones. I take requests.
1. Relax (LynXRath)

Lyn's face was set in a grim expression as she marched across camp, a blanket-wrapped bundle in her arms. Her eyes scanned the area, seeking the form of a certain plainsman. When she found him, she stopped at his side, dropping the bundle and letting the clatter as a bow, quiver, and handful of arrows fell from the blanket announce her presence. He looked up, but otherwise had no apparent reaction, forcing her to speak first.

"I want you to teach me," she said, then feeling that it was too much like a command added, "if you don't mind. Eliwood's learning the lance, and Hector's learning the sword, and I don't want to be left behind." She knew it was foolish, her desperate desire to prove herself to the other lords, but more than that, she wanted to be able to protect her friends, to fight side-by-side with Kent and Florina and Sain. She didn't need anyone else's blood on her hands.

She thought she might need more justification, and she opened her mouth to wheedle and convince, and maybe even to command, but he was already getting to his feet, gathering up the weapon she'd dropped and pressing it into her arms. She accepted the burden easily, and he took up his own bow where it leaned against a nearby tree. Then he walked away.

She would never be used to his wordless ways, never not feel like an intruder around him, but she followed nonetheless, even her quiet footsteps too loud. He led her to a small clearing, away from the bustle of camp. Targets were carved into several trees for practice. If it had been solely his retreat and hideaway it would have been too much and she would have felt uncomfortable tromping all over it. Luckily, an abandoned pair of gloves and a smaller bow lying by one of the targets made it likely a haven for the archers in the group in general to come and practice, though neither Wil nor Rebecca nor anyone else were here at the moment.

She realized now that she'd never seen Rath shoot on foot, as she studied the unfamiliar form of him standing straight, arms crossed and eyes on the target. When he spoke, she jumped in surprise.

"Try it."

He nodded towards one of the carved trees.

Lyn nodded, flicking her ponytail over one shoulder. She picked an arrow a bit sheepishly, not sure what she should be looking for in one, and hefted the bow in her hand. It took a bit of fumbling, but she managed what she felt was a proper stance, and drew back the arrow to her ear. She paused then for a moment, waiting for advice, then released the bowstring.

Several things happened at once.

The arrow went off somewhere to her left, zipping past Rath's nose. (he didn't flinch.) The bowstring snapped against the soft skin on her inner arm, though her wrist was spared due to her gloves. She almost overbalanced, wobbling and stepping backwards. Rath sighed and uncrossed his arms.

"Don't do that," he advised, and Lyn wondered with an internal scream of frustration what exactly 'that' was. There was a patch of red on her inner elbow now that stung, and she frowned at it, resolving to ask Serra to look at it when she got back to the main camp. She hardly noticed Rath stepping to her side, unbuckling a thick leather gauntlet from his wrist. She did notice when he wrapped it around her forearm, still warm from being close to his skin.

"You need one of these," he informed her. The brace near wrapped around her arm twice, and he tightened it with the buckle, his eyes steady on the strap as he worked. She watched his face, but he didn't look up, not even once, and again she wondered if she'd offended him. But he wasn't done.

He chose the arrow this time, fingertips dipping into the quiver and selecting one like an artist picking a brush. He stepped behind her and handed her the arrow over her shoulder as he curled his fingers on his free hand over hers, raising her bow and arm together. Lyndis felt her pulse began to pound, wishing he would just tell her what to do. But verbal communication wasn't a skill Rath possessed, and instead he guided her with light touches, tilting her chin, fixing her stance, and finally guiding her to draw back the bow. Lyn squinted at the target and tried to focus solely on it, and not on the changes he was making to her posture. His left hand finally came to rest on her hip and his right just behind her wrist, out of the way of the arrow that was ready to fly. They were still for just a moment, and Lyn didn't breathe for fear of messing up. Then he mumbled one last instruction, his breath brushing past her ear.

"Relax."

With a twang the arrow went wild into the trees again, but Lyn hardly noticed, her face red as she dropped the bow and hastily undid the buckle that held his gauntlet to her arm.

"I think that's enough for one day thank you and goodbye," she said hastily, not meeting his eyes as she pushed the blue leather garment back at him.

Rath accepted it in confusion and watched her hurry back to camp. It seemed he wasn't a good teacher after all, though he hoped she would give him another chance in the future.


	2. Fortune Like This (JoshuaXNatasha)

Joshua had marked cards, rolled loaded die, and hidden all sorts of things up his sleeve. He'd won horses, gold pieces, and once an entire wine cellar. But no bet had ever brought him fortune like this.

"Sit up straight," an insistent murmur came from his side, and with a roll of his eyes he complied.

"You ain't my mother," he reminded Natasha, and she blinked slowly back at him. Her hands were folded neatly in her lap and her chin was bowed. To the outsider's eye, she looked every inch the subservient wife. But Joshua of all people knew better, and the knowledge more delighted than intimidated him.

When he'd met her, Natasha had been a frightened girl, shrinking and shivering in terror. Even though he remembered that day as vividly as if he was staring at a painting of it, he couldn't reconcile the person she had been with the person she was now.

There was steel in her shoulders, and a certainty to her quiet voice that anyone else would find easy to miss. He couldn't have picked a better queen for Jehanna if he'd been trying.

Sprawled just a bit in his throne, he watched her speak with a young couple who'd approached to beg aid. Something about sandstorms and cows, but he couldn't be assed to listen properly. She, on the other hand…Natasha's blue eyes were focused on the two's faces, a small frown on her lips. Though she held no staff in her hands, Joshua watched her work her magic as she spoke with them. The lines around the young man's eyes were softening, and the young woman's posture straightened a bit, the weary hunch slowly falling away from her shoulders.

Though Natasha couldn't promise much aid to them— and he didn't even have to listen to what she said to know she'd promised exactly enough— the two looked much happier when they left.

That was exactly what Joshua was talking about. He'd tried time and again to describe the effect she had on others. He'd brought up the fact that she was everyone's preferred healer back in the army days, that their comrades would line up for just a few minutes with her to tell her their troubles. He'd mentioned what a common sight it was to see her fixing Vanessa's braid or the straps on Amelia's too-big armor. But she never seemed to understand just how much she helped them all. And if she didn't understand that, of course she wouldn't be able to understand how beautiful she was while she did so.

She looked up now, her gaze catching his, and he realized with a start that that had been the last of the visitors for today. He knew she'd noticed his surprise when she smiled, lips pressing tight together like she thought she'd better not, and she looked down at her hands again.

Getting to his feet, Joshua stretched and worked the kinks out of his back, caused no doubt by his awful posture. A servant came close to inform them that it was time to get dressed for dinner. Natasha thanked him in a quiet voice, and then he left the two alone in the throne room.

Natasha gathered her skirts around her as she stood, a bit stiff as well. She wouldn't do anything as undignified as stretching like he had, but he was there in a moment, one hand cupping her elbow and the other on her shoulder, kneading slightly at the muscles there. She bit the inside of her lip.

"On average, how much do you think you payed attention today?" Her tone was one of mild curiosity. Even when she was displeased with him, she never had to raise her voice to make him feel like the worst king and husband in the world. But she was open and soft in the way she stood today, and she met his eyes finally, the fingers of one hand curling into the folds of his sleeve. A wide grin grew on his face.

"Maybe half the time."

It was an improvement. Also a lie.

Her sigh was tiny, so soft one might have mistaken it for just a breath, but not him. He was an expert in Natasha, and he knew fond exasperation when he heard it. The hand on her elbow moved to her waist, and he bent down to kiss her softly.

It had taken her awhile to let him get this close, and though it'd been years he still relished it, lingered in the kiss, his thumb curling against the bare skin at the base of her neck.

Dinner was still waiting though, and she stepped back after a moment, conscientious of their surroundings as always. She didn't have to speak to remind him they had somewhere to be, and with her hand tucked into his elbow they swept from the hall, turning towards the stairwell.

"You were amazing today," Joshua told her, and she smiled.


	3. I Could Surprise You (HenryXLissa)

"I can fix these," she said suddenly, stopping to spread her fingers on the pale boy's shoulder. Henry looked at her over his shoulder, or as much as he ever looked at anyone. But she could tell he was listening, one corner of his mouth winding up into an amused smile. Lissa felt a wave of nerves in her stomach, but she didn't move her hand. Her eyes studied the contrast between her fingers, tanned from months on the road, and his back, ghost-light like everything about him. The scars under her hand stood out, harsh and pink and painful. Something in her twisted in sympathy at the sight.

"What," he said finally, a peal of laughter just barely restrained in his words. It threatened to override and crash like a wave, taking over his speech, but he continued, "those things? They're old. Wayyyy past your skill level, little princess."

He was taunting her, but with affection, and she grinned back at him. "You challenging me, crow boy?" she teased, moving her hand to scratch the top of his spine, like she would to a dog or a horse. His shoulders hunched under her fingers, pushing back into her touch. This was easy and warm, a natural continuation of her dragging him into her tent after a battle to treat some battle wound on his back.

She knew what Chrom would say (a _man, _in her _tent, _the scandal) but she would just point out that they were essentially married now, and no she was not too young, and also they had a son in the future apparently, so everything was fine. The line of reasoning would have sounded like madness to her a year or so ago, but this war changed things.

Besides, though other people side-eyed the dark mage, Lissa knew she could trust him. She'd slept her soundest sleeps burrowed into his shoulder, and he'd kept her safe all this time. It was only fair to return the favor.

"I'm serious, you know," she said, pausing with her hand on the worst of them all, a deep and shiny mess of scar tissue. "Maybe not…maybe not some of the bad ones, but Maribelle lent me this book on how you can cut out some of the scar and then heal it right away, and it'll heal right that time—"

"Hmmm…" He seemed intrigued, his smile falling away a bit, but she was sure he was just thinking of how it would work, muscles moving beneath skin and knitting back together again. Surely it was fascinating to him. He tilted his head back, chin jutting towards the ceiling. The ends of his hair brushed her fingertips, and she waited for his thoughts to catch up.

"As interesting as I think that would be— could you cut me? I would like to see— I think they're interesting, right? A cool point, almost." His grin was back, wide and reassuring, and she leaned forward, pressing a firm kiss to his shoulder blade as proof of her grown-up attitude.

"I could surprise you," she insisted, nose still against his skin, and his laughter shook his ribcage so hard she had to press her forehead to his back for stability.

"We'll see," he giggled.


	4. A King and a Queen (Ephraim and Eirika)

Renais was made to be ruled by a king and queen. These words had been drilled into their heads since childhood, and they understood the meaning behind them; Ephraim would grow up and marry, take Tana or the princess of a further off kingdom to be his wife, and then he would rule. Eirika would be traded like a bargaining chip to some other land, to strengthen the bonds between the two countries.

After that, they would see each other once every few years, if at all.

And so they treasured their childhood. They sparred with each other, and learned their letters leaning over the same enormous book. They shared pastries stolen from the kitchen, they shared gossip overheard from kitchen maids. They shared a best friend, and then they killed him together. They shared the burden of that too.

Finally, they were grown, but somehow it seemed like the world had just become younger. Behind almost every country now was a young lord like them, only just barely no longer a child, with too many lines around their eyes for someone their age. There were no adults to make the rules anymore, and their bonds were already strong between them; it didn't take a convenient marriage to trust L'arachel or Innes or Joshua. They would trust them with their lives, and would do the same with their countries.

And so Eirika stayed, and became, if possible, even more beloved to the people. Ephraim began to realize how cruel it would have been to tear her from this land. He, too, was loved, even if he did not realize it. Side-by-side they ruled, for their tutors had been right; Renais was meant to be ruled by a king and queen.


	5. Expected Results (SullyXMiriel)

Miriel wasn't what one could call cuddly. But somehow she'd taken to using Sully's shoulder as a kind of backrest. Sully didn't mind; she never did it when she didn't have armor on anyway, so it wasn't like she was really leaning on _her. _Must be awfully uncomfortable though.

The severe woman was paging through some enormous volume, her weight almost entirely against Sully's left shoulder. Sully held her sword in that hand, using her right to sharpen the blade. Miriel's weight helped keep her sword steady, so really, it was a good arrangement.

The sharpening stone slipped on the edge of the sword, and her shoulder jostled Miriel, knocking her glasses off and her book out of her hands.

"Damn! Sorry about that!" Sully leaned over to help her, gathering up the book. Papers had spilled out of where they'd been tucked into the binding, and she started to pick them up.

"Don't touch those," Miriel scolded, slapping her hands away, but not before Sully picked up a sheet covered in even handwriting, and caught her name at the top of the column.

She laughed, holding it close so she could read it. "Is this from when you did that 'speriment on me? Man, that takes me back." Some of the writing on it was strange though, and she went quiet as she read it.

Miriel was vibrating with rage, and snatched the paper from her. "I said, don't touch that. Has being in a tin can all day permanently damaged your hearing?" She sniffed and tucked the page back into the book. But Sully had read enough.

"Hey, what's all that? Talkin' about my friendship with Sumia an' all." She frowned, the pieces coming together in her head.

Miriel was never one to beat around the bush. "When you said you were different from other woman, I thought you were struggling with your attraction to women yourself. I had resolved to help you if that was the case."

Sully spluttered, her face going red. "That's ridiculous! Where'd you go an' get a fool idea like that? Likin' other women, that's—" Miriel was looking increasingly uncomfortable, concentrating far too closely on the papers in her hands, and Sully, for once in her life, had an ounce of sensitivity. "—not that farfetched. I guess. Uh."

She cleared her throat awkwardly.

These were not the expected results at all.


End file.
